


mercy no more

by playedwright



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - NHL, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Rivalry, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2020-10-30 04:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playedwright/pseuds/playedwright
Summary: Will kind of gets it. He gets why everyone loves Derek Nurse. The guy plays spectacular hockey, and he’s an asset to any team he’s on. But he’s also the most charming motherfucker in the NHL right now, he’s a PR wet dream with how little trouble he gets into. He’s gorgeous and built, and he’s funny and smart. Will spends more time than he’d like to admit watching interviews of the guy and being envious of how likeable the guy is.Will has seen a lot of hockey interviews, okay? Any other guy you’d pull off the bench could barely string together three cohesive words during a game, but catch Derek on his way back to the locker room and he’s all smiles and poetry references.So, yeah. Maybe they do have a rivalry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> should this be the project i'm working on? no. is it consuming my every waking hour anyway? a little bit. at least i'm writing ? ?? ?
> 
> huge huge HUGE thanks to [kath](https://korechthonia.tumblr.com/) for reading over this and making sure it makes sense since even though i’m an enthusiastic new baby nhl fan, i still don’t understand anything about trade season except that my favorite players go to other teams :( kath, you da bomb!
> 
> title from 'it will come back' by hozier because i'm... in a mood and his music slaps so.
> 
> without further ado, enjoy!!

“Dexter, I still can’t believe your archnemesis is one of the finalists for the Calder.”

Will swears under his breath as his concentration breaks and his character goes toppling over the side of Rainbow Road. “I don’t have an archnemesis, fuck off.”

The fake cheery music is taunting him. He fucking _ hates _Rainbow Road. He’s got half a mind to switch to a new game altogether, and he probably would if his obnoxious ass liney wasn’t here breathing down his back while he plays.

“Wait, Derek Nurse got a nomination for the Calder?”

“Yup,” Bowser says, popping the ‘p’. He takes a long drink of his beer and Will is certain it’s just to piss him off. Bastard. His phone dangles precariously between his fingers, screen lit up with the article. “What rock have you been living under for the past few months?”

“Eat shit, Bowser, I was a bit distracted by playing in my first Stanley Cup Playoffs ever.”

Bower snorts. “Yeah, yeah, life is but a dream and all that. Hey, why the fuck do you keep choosing Princess Peach in this game? Does she have like secret powers or some shit that will help you pass Rainbow Road?”

Will takes a deep breath after he launches his character off the side of the road for what has to be the thousandth time. This is a prime example of why he hates living with people. “Because she’s badass, you hypocrite, you never even choose Bowser as your character.”

“Yeah, because Mario Kart Bowser fucking sucks, and when I play I’m actually trying to win. How many times have you driven yourself off the rainbow in the last twenty minutes?” Bowser asks.

“You can play if you’re so goddamn cocky then,” Will snaps. He tosses the controller to Bowser and leans back against the cushions, pulling his phone out from his back pocket. “Derek fucking Nurse, huh?”

He watches as Boswer picks Wario for his character then groans to himself. His d-man is kind of a dipshit.

“He had a really good season,” Bowser offers up.

“My stats were just as good as his,” Will whines. “Where’s my goddamn nomination? If you compare our stats, they’re neck and neck. Like—yeah, okay, he pulls ahead in some places, but then I pull ahead in others, so it all evens out, you know?”

The game starts. Fucking Rainbow Road.

“Did you do research on this guy?” Bowser asks. “Aw, Dexter, that’s kind of cute.”

Will glares halfheartedly. Bowser doesn’t see it. “You said it yourself, dude, the guy’s like my archnemesis or whatever. I kind of have to be aware of what he’s doing. Gotta figure out how to be better than him.”

“This is like the weirdest foreplay ever,” Bowser comments.

Will splutters indignantly. “God, I really hate you, Bowneski.”

“You’d die on that ice without me,” Bowser says mildly as his character crosses the finish line. “Take a joke, Will. You’ve been playing professional hockey for almost a year now, you have to get used to this shit or they’re gonna eat you alive next year.”

The sigh Will lets out is long suffering. “Is mandatory d-man hang out over, can I go now?”

“Why, so you can sulk over the Calder finalists and stalk Derek Nurse some more to figure out why he got picked and you didn’t? I don’t think so. There’s a bottle of wine in the fridge, we’re gonna drink that and sulk about losing the playoffs this year. We can even put something on the TV if you start to get too emotional and want to blame it on the show.”

Will crosses his arms. “You want me to drink my woes away with a bottle of wine?” he asks.

“What I _ want _is for you to stop shitting on mandatory d-man hang outs and enjoy what precious time we have together,” Bowser says, voice dripping saccharine. He bats his eyelashes at Will and doesn’t even flinch when Will lifts up a throw pillow threateningly. “Seriously, Will. You gotta let all that anger out somewhere. Go get the wine out of the fridge. Wine glasses are in the cabinet if you’re feeling fancy.”

“What kind of second year NHL player has fucking wine glasses on his cabinets?” Will mutters, but he gets to his feet anyway. Walking away helps clear his head. The bottle of wine is cold against his arm when he grabs it, and the glasses clink together. His socked feet don’t make noise but he still tries to walk quietly just in case. Bowser has turned off the video games and switched to Netflix by the time Will makes it back.

Will hands him the bottle and the corkscrew. He sits down unceremoniously on the couch and extends his wine glass impatiently, even though Bowser hasn’t even opened the bottle yet. “Jesus, you’re needy,” Bowser mutters.

“That’s what all my exes say.”

Bowser lets out a derisive snort. “In your dreams, dude, you don’t have exes. You’ve got some damn good skills on the ice but your dating game is busted.”

“I hate you,” Will says, with no real heat. Bowser pours him a generous glass of wine, and Will concedes, “I changed my mind, you’re a national hero.”

“And you,” Bowser says as he fills his own glass, “are a major kiss-ass. Cheers.”

Will taps his glass against Bowser’s then starts to drink.

* * *

Here’s the thing.

Derek Nurse already went first in the draft, despite the fact that Will is like 76% sure his stats were better than Nurse’s. Maybe he made a spreadsheet to compare, whatever. The point is, the guy already gets to claim that he went first. Getting nominated for the Calder when he already went first is just salt in the wound, as far as Will’s concerned.

He’s only met the guy a handful of times, and most of it has been when they’re playing against each other on the ice. Their rivalry is played up due to the fact that they were neck and neck with one another preparing to enter the NHL and even more now that they’re playing for teams on opposite ends of the continent. Still, it’s not a stretch to call it a rivalry. Will knows he’s watched his fair share of highlight reels and interviews and PR bait, enough that he could probably write a memoir about it.

Their skills are pretty evenly matched. Will is a little bit faster, Nurse a little bit better with puck handling. Will looked it up once—their stats even match right down to their fucking heights.

So they’ve got a rivalry. Except it can’t really be called a rivalry now, since Nurse clearly just won. Even if he doesn’t win the Calder, he got a nomination and Will didn’t. Will’s trying not to be bitter about it.

“You’re a piss-poor liar,” Bowser chirps, somewhere near the bottom of their third glass. The bottle is closer to empty now than Will wants it to be. “Just admit you’re fucking bitter, Dexter. We all know you’re obsessed with the guy, and now if you ever meet him off the ice he’s gonna be insufferable.”

“Why does he get everything?” Will whines. He swirls the wine in his glass around. “Is there something that I’m missing that everyone else sees about him? Does he secretly also play the goalie while he’s on the ice?”

Bowser pulls out his phone. “You’re _ really _bothered by this, aren’t you? You know his nomination was announced, like, months ago, right? Can’t change it now.”

Will finishes off his glass instead of responding.

“Christ,” Bowser says mildly. “Hugsy’s in the neighborhood. I’m gonna tell him to come over.”

“Ugh, no, I can’t stand Hugsy. He thinks he’s God’s greatest gift to hockey just because he plays center. We get it, dude, Seattle traded their first round pick to have you on their team. Maybe score a goal once in a while to make it worth their efforts.”

“Hugsy has a bottle of tequila.”

Will sighs. “Fine, I guess I’ll allow it.”

Bowser laughs and throws a pillow at Will’s head. He’s lucky Will doesn’t spill wine all over the couch. “This is my place, you asshole, you think _ you _get to allow when people come or go?”

“Uh, _ yeah_,” Will says. “Second draft pick is a pretty big deal.”

“You're incorrigible.”

“Too tipsy for big words.”

The other thing is, Will kind of gets it. He gets why everyone loves Derek Nurse. The guy plays spectacular hockey, and he’s an asset to any team he’s on. But he’s also the most charming motherfucker in the NHL right now, he’s a PR wet dream with how little trouble he gets into. He’s gorgeous and fucking built and he’s funny and smart. Will spends more time than he’d like to admit watching interviews of the guy and being envious of how likeable the guy is.

Will has seen a lot of hockey interviews, okay? Any other guy you’d pull off the bench could barely string together three cohesive words during a game, but catch Derek on his way back to the locker room and he’s all smiles and poetry references. Will fucking hates that.

But he gets it. The guy is a dreamboat, or whatever. He’s got the personality and the looks and the talent. And Will only has the talent.

Will finishes off the bottle of wine before Hugsy even walks in the door. Hugsy takes one look at Will and Bowser, collapsed on a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor next to empty wine glasses and smirks to himself. 

Even with all the chirps, Hugsy still pours them all generous shots. Will’s head is a good kind of fuzzy, and the tequila puts warmth in his belly after the burn in his throat is gone.

Hugsy is far from Will’s favorite person on the team. The guy is arrogant without proper reason to be, and he’s known for stirring up drama. Will has lost track of how many times Sabeen, their GM, has pulled Hugsy into her office to berate him.

“You guys are lightweights, you’re already this buzzed off of a bottle of wine?” Hugsy laughs. He takes the shot glass out of Will’s hand and doesn’t oblige when Will makes grabby hands to ask for another. “Rooks.”

“Hey, we only have one rookie here, leave me out of this,” Bowser whines. “Dexter drank all the wine anyway. I barely had any. Tequila me.”

Hugsy glances up at Will as he pours Bowser’s shot. “Y’all nervous with trade season opening up again?”

“Dexter’s panties are in a twist because Derek Nurse is a Calder finalist even though this happened literal months ago,” Bowser explains. “He thought it was gonna go to him.”

Hugsy whistles in sympathy. “That guy just keeps snuffing you, huh?”

“Fuck off,” Will mutters. “I’m not talking to you about this.”

Hugsy pours him another shot.

“I just don’t fucking get it!” Will yells, after Hugsy has poured him shot number three. _ Hercules _ is playing on TV and Will is missing a sock. He sits cross-legged on Bowser’s bean bag chair. “Everyone thinks this dude walks on water. I’m just as fucking good as him. But no, he’s—he’s more charming, and his interviews are better than mine, and he’s got a pretty face and I’m stuck with—with sticky-outy ears and a mug that looks like it’s hit the ice one too many times. Is it fucking fair that he gets the nom because he’s pretty? Fucking _ no.”_

“That’s probably not why he got the nomination,” Bowser reminds him. He’s sitting upside down on the couch, head dangling and his hair is long enough that it brushes against the floor. Will has half a thought about how gross that is before he forgets.

“No, probably not, but what other reason is there?” Will asks grumpily. His wine glass is in his hand for some reason but it’s empty. He frowns at it. “Our stats are, like, the same. We’re the _ same_. We’re the same height! But he’s got the… the…” Will gestures broadly. “He’s got the face.”

Hugsy is snickering but Will can’t even look at him right now. 

“It’s the face,” Will decides. “It’s the face and. And the eyes, it’s the face and the eyes.”

“Aw, Dexter thinks Derek Nurse is pretty,” Hugsy coos. Will lazily flips him off, too tired and fuzzy to do anything else. Hugsy starts to giggle again.

Will slides deeper into the bean bag chair. It’s ugly and Will hates it, and if this were Will’s place he would throw it out in a heartbeat, but this is Bowser’s place so he normally just hates it in silence. Will realizes, perhaps far too late, that he’s very drunk.

“Pretty isn’t a reason to win the fucking Calder trophy,” Will mutters.

He dozes off pretty soon after that.

* * *

It starts with a video.

Will seriously hates Hugsy.

Sabeen calls him into his office early the next morning, looking none too impressed by his haggard, hungover aesthetic. Will sits down in the chair across from her and wonders what he did to warrant a meeting in the GM’s office.

“William,” she says.

Will likes Sabeen. She’s sharp as a tack and wicked smart, and she manages a team of rambunctious hockey boys with grace and dignity. They’ve talked, in the past, about her days playing hockey for Canada in the Olympics. He likes her a lot and he admires her more than anyone else in this organization—but she still terrifies him.

“Sabeen,” he says back politely.

“I take it wearing sunglasses inside my office is not a fashion choice this morning,” she states.

“You would be correct,” Will agreed with a wince. “I swear it’ll be the last time I ever drink with Hugsy. That dude is determined to make you forget your own name.”

A strange, sad look flickers across Sabeen’s expression.

“This is going to be a nightmare for practically everyone involved,” she starts. Will’s stomach sinks. “And before we get started, Will, I want you to listen to the words I have to say and believe me when I say them. This was premeditated, and this announcement would have happened today regardless of what happened yesterday. I like you, Will. This organization has really liked you.”

Will forces himself to sit up. “Sabeen, what—?”

“A video that was posted on Jason Hughes’ Snapchat story has recently gone viral on Twitter,” Sabeen says. She unlocks her phone and slides it across the desk to Will. Will finally takes off his sunglasses. It’s him, from last night. Sitting on a bean bag chair and ranting with an empty glass of wine in his hand. Embarrassment floods his body. “I’ve reached out to the people in charge of the Falconer’s organization, and they confirmed that they were already aware of the video. And… Derek Nurse has seen it.”

“Fuck,” Will mutters, horrified. The video starts over on Sabeen’s phone. There’s no sound playing from the speakers, but there doesn’t need to be. Will remembers what he said. “_ Fuck_. I—what do I do to fix this?”

Sabeen leans back in her chair. “That’s where it gets complicated.”

In an instance, Will’s chest fills with fear. His lungs constrict and his heartbeat starts to pick up. “This isn’t. I mean, I _ can _fix this, right? They aren’t gonna kick me out of the organization, are they? Or… send me down to AHL? ECHL? Sabeen, I can fix this, right?”

“You aren’t being sent down,” she reassures him. “Will, remember what I told you. This was already in the works.”

Will sits back.

“Providence reached out to us not long ago inquiring about a trade,” Sabeen starts. “They’ve been in discussion for quite some time. Providence is looking to strengthen their defense, and they know that we’ve been on the lookout for a new forward ever since Jon Davydov tore his ACL. We finally reached terms we could agree on this week.”

“Sabeen,” Will says.

“You’re being traded to Providence,” she finishes. The look in her eyes is sympathetic as she tells him.

Will takes a deep breath. He tries not to let the panic throw him again. In, out. In, out. “This has nothing to do with the fact that a video of me trash-talking their number one draft pick went viral last night?” Will confirms.

“I would have called you here today either way,” Sabeen tells him.

Will nods. “But what I did certainly makes your job and the job of a bunch of PR people a thousand times harder.”

Sabine’s mouth twists sourly. “It definitely did,” she agrees. “Will, we get it. You and Derek Nurse have a little rivalry going on. The media has been eating it up. But this video? It’s gonna send the wrong message. People are going to think that this trade is damage control. They’re going to question whether or not you and Derek are going to be able to play on the same line. He’s their golden boy. They’re going to look for ways to sink you before you can sink him.”

“Are we going to be able to play on the same line?” Will mutters petulantly. He drops his gaze to Sabeen’s desk.

“Your stats are neck and neck,” Sabeen reminds him, like that very thought hasn’t been consuming Will’s every thought from last night. “Providence seems to believe it will make you a near-unstoppable team. Otherwise they wouldn’t have fought so hard for you.”

Will looks up in surprise.

“Don’t make them regret wanting you,” Sabeen sighs.

Will lets out a half strangled laugh. Everything that’s happened this morning feels so surreal. “Okay, so what _ is _damage control? How do I convince people I’m not gonna stab Nurse with my hockey skate during practice one day?”

Sabeen’s next smile is wry. “Well, you’re going to be his best friend, for one.”

The concept is almost laughable, until Will gets a good look at Sabeen’s face and decides this really isn’t a laughing matter.

“This is serious, Will,” she continues. “We’re gonna play off the video as friendly chirping. Your rivalry has been played up because, as friends, you thought it was funny. You’ll move into his apartment to settle for this next season—”

“Hang on, I have to live with this guy? We’ve never even said two words to each other!” Will interrupts.

Sabeen glares at him, and his mouth snaps shut with a loud noise. “You’re _ thrilled _ to be playing on the same team,” she goes on. There’s a list on her desk that Will thinks she might be reading from. “You will do an interview with Derek where you’ll talk about what great friends you are and how excited you are to test that chemistry on the ice.”

She pauses for a second, glancing down at the papers in front of her. Will isn’t sure he’s going to like where this one is going. He’s one hundred percent sure he’s not going to have a choice either way, though.

Sabeen sighs. Whatever this last thing is, she’s not too happy about it either. “And you’ll accompany him to the NHL Awards Ceremony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my goal is to post updates every monday; come yell at me on [tumblr](https://tonytangredis.tumblr.com/) about my update schedule, and any other topics you might need someone to talk with about!
> 
> comment, bookmark, kudos below! as always, thanks for reading - see you next week!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOA I WAS A DAY EARLY ON A DEADLINE. plot twist and a half my dudes.
> 
> thank you for all the kind comments left last chapter omg and also @ everyone who caught on to the similarities to red white and royal blue yes i know i'm not subtle no i wasn't trying to be thank u for knowing that book by heart it's truly a gift. ANYWAYS ENJOY

**‘TRADE ALERT: Poindexter waves goodbye to the West Coast’**

_ 21-year-old defenseman is Providence-bound. _

The announcement came late Monday night: William Poindexter is turning in his Schooners jersey and boarding a plane that’s headed to the East Coast. 

Speculations have already arisen that this trade is a result of a video of Poindexter that went viral Sunday night. The video features an inebriated Poindexter expressing his frustration about Derek Nurse’s Calder nomination. Both organizations claim the events are not in any way connected.

“I’m thrilled,” says Nurse, when asked for a comment. “We’ve been friends for a while. Happened pre-draft, you know? There’s all this pressure, all these eyes on you. It was nice to have someone who understood all that pressure. So yeah, I’m thrilled I get the chance to actually be on the ice with him.”

Nurse is all smiles and laughs when the rivalry is brought up. “I mean, we definitely egged it on. Thought it was funny. Whatever it takes to get you through rookie year.”

**Read more on Bleacher Report**

  
  


> **Derek Nurse ✔️** @dnursey
> 
> ooooooooohhhh hashtag burn dexy!
> 
> **RT @nhl_scoops_daily:** will poindexter goes OFF about @dnursey and his ‘pretty face’ in a video posted on jason hughes snapchat bit.ly/

> **William J. Poindexter ✔️** @willpoindexter24
> 
> You act like this is the meanest thing I’ve ever said to you @dnursey
> 
> **RT @dnursey:** ooooooooohhhh hashtag burn dexy!

> **Derek Nurse ✔️** @dnursey
> 
> **replied to @willpoindexter:** oh damn hashtag grumpy? 

  
  


> **NHL Scoops** @nhl_scoops_daily
> 
> rivalry or secret bromance?! @dnursey and @willpoindexter24 let the rest of the world in on their long term friendship bit.ly/

* * *

Derek Nurse is even prettier in person, which really just pisses Will off.

Will’s entire life is packed into three suitcases and a backpack and he smells like airplane and Derek Nurse stands at the passenger pickup looking like he’s descended from fucking Olympus or something. Will’s lucky he’s wearing sweatpants that don’t have holes in them. Derek looks stupid immaculate in a bomber jacket and well-fitting jeans.

He’s already flushed pink when Derek flashes him a teasing smile, but he goes bright red when Derek says, “Excited to finally see my pretty face and eyes in person, Poindexter?”

Will is close enough in proximity that he doesn’t feel bad hissing out, “Oh, fuck you.”

Derek hugs him. It’s not a bro hug; it’s a real thing, and his arms wrap all the way around Will so confidently that Will almost believes it’s not the first time they’ve done this. Will hugs him back out of instinct but it feels stiff on his end.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Derek laughs in Will’s ear, and Will’s blood turns to fire. Derek pats his back twice before breaking the hug and grabbing one of Will’s carry-ons from off his shoulder. “You ready to go, best bud?”

Will forces a smile. He’s hyper-aware of the people standing at the edge of the airport, unsubtly pointing their phones at Will and Derek. He guesses he’s lucky there isn’t more of a crowd. The Falconers weren’t exactly quiet about Will’s big move to Providence. “Are you determined to prove that you’re the most annoying person on this planet?”

“You don’t even know me,” Derek says. That easy smile doesn’t even waiver off his face. “Besides, you don’t think I’m annoying—you think I’m _ pretty_.”

Will groans. Derek gestures and they start walking. A few people glance at them and quickly look away, but no one stops. There’s no open staring either. Will thinks that’s a win.

“If I apologize and mean it sincerely, can we drop it?” Will mutters.

Derek lets out an incredulous huff. “No fucking way, dude. I’ve got chirp fodder for years. God, I hope you don’t get traded again before I run out. This is going to be so much fun.”

“So the rivalry continues,” Will mutters.

Derek throws an arm around Will’s shoulders. Friendly. He waves to a girl wearing a Falconers shirt and Will follows in suit. “Bro, you have no idea how much fun we’re going to have.”

Derek drives a surprisingly inconspicuous car, considering his ludicrous career and penchant for nicer clothes. Will never would have picked it out of a lineup if asked. Still, it’s impeccably cleaned. Smells faintly like a gear bag. Will loads his suitcases into the trunk then climbs into the passenger seat sullenly. In the privacy of Derek’s car, they don’t have to pretend to be friends—Will’s a little pissed off that he kinda misses the warm weight of Derek’s arm around his shoulders, though.

Derek lets out a breath so heavy that Will almost thinks that this is trying for _ him. _ He rolls his eyes and looks out the window. It’s not like he’s got anything to say right now, anyway.

Providence is warm and green. Will’s been here of course, the few times they played the Falconers during regulation, but never enough to actually enjoy the city. The air is thick and sticky and clinging to summer. Will has half a mind to roll his window down and close his eyes, letting the new air hit his face until he’s familiar with it.

He misses the east coast like a part of him is gone, so there’s this desperate thing inside of him rattling his rib cage in excitement to be back. He’s got the Atlantic Ocean in his bloodstream. Nine months right off the coast of the Pacific didn’t take that away from him.

Will is gonna be thrown onto a new team and stuck with a roommate he already knows he might murder, but there’s a part of him that’s home. He’s right on the water’s edge again.

“For real though, man, you holding up okay?” Derek asks suddenly, breaking Will out of his reverie. Will blinks in surprise.

“What?”

Derek scoffs a little. “You just got uprooted across an entire country. Living with a stranger you’ve never spoken to. I know we’re rivals but I have, like, concern. Are you holding up okay?”

Will’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he finds the words to say. He’s not sure they’re the right ones. “How would you feel if the life you were just barely settling into was gone in five seconds as a result of a video that wasn’t your fucking fault?”

“Wow,” Derek laughs. His eyes don’t leave the road. “Right, so, I’m sensing some hostility. Do you want to duke it out now or are we just gonna live in tension for an entire season?”

Will scoffs. “You telling me that you’re actually happy about this entire arrangement?”

Derek is quiet for far longer than Will likes. When he glances over, Derek gives him a tiny shrug. He still won’t look away from the road. Will almost misses the smug grin that spreads across Derek’s face after another second. “You’re gonna move out by September. Tops. I’m not worried.”

“This is why everyone thinks we’re fucking rivals,” Will snaps.

“Aw, and here I was thinking it was because we were neck and neck in the draft and playing on different teams,” Derek says dryly. “Tell me, Poindexter, are you always this much of a delight or is the stick up your ass just larger today?”

Will rolls his eyes. “Creative insult there.”

“Yeah, well, I did have a focus on creative writing before throwing myself into hockey,” Derek mutters. His voice is tight and defensive. “Are we even gonna make an effort, here?”

There’s a thousand petty things that run through his head before Will finally settles on trying to be mature. He sighs and looks back out the window and says, “I still think you’re gonna drive me fucking crazy, and this whole thing kind of fucking sucks, so you just gotta bear with me while I adjust, okay?”

Derek clears his throat. “Right.”

Derek’s apartment is right near the arena, which Will supposed is convenient—but the same can also be said for practically every place in Rhode Island since this tiny ass state is barely 1,000 square miles. He parks his car in the structure underneath the building and takes another one of Will’s bags as they head towards an elevator.

“You been in your own place long?” Will asks, just to break the tension in the silent elevator. Derek presses the button to the fifth floor and doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I was living with Jack Zimmermann before this,” Derek admits. “Rookie year. George found me this apartment after they told us we’d be living together.”

Will’s stomach swoops into his ribcage. Guilt is a white hot force through him. “Fuck, dude, you didn’t even get to enjoy a place before they threw me on your door step?”

Derek’s lip quirks. “I imagine we’ll have plenty of time to break it in,” he says. A wink accompanies it. Will flushes from head to toe, so strong he’s sure he’s a bright red.

“I hate you,” Will mutters.

“You think I’m pretty,” Derek counters.

Will rolls his eyes. He really won’t ever live this down. He supposed he’s lucky that Derek is taking the teasing route instead of outright being an asshole to him. The NHL isn’t the most accepting place to be. “I was drunk,” Will sniffs. “And trying to justify a reason why anyone would think you’re a better fit for the Calder than me.”

“The numbers speak for themselves, Dexy.”

“Your smart mouth speaks for itself, don’t get that confused with talent,” Will snaps. The elevator doors open and Derek shuffles our, not waiting to see if Will follows. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

Derek glances back.

“Dexy,” Will prompts.

“Ah.” Derek stops in front of a door. 512, Will notes. He’s gonna have to remember. God, he’s gonna need a key. He wonders if Derek has one ready for him, or if he’s gonna be an asshole about that, too. “Hockey nicknames. Ever heard of them?”

“The Schooners called me Dexter,” Will mutters. “I already have a fucking hockey nickname.”

“New team, new name, Dexy.”

Will sighs.

Derek’s apartment—_their _apartment, Will corrects himself, since Derek has barely lived here at all—is pretty bare. Derek’s boxes line the walls, each labeled clearly. There’s a kitchen with an island and a breakfast nook to the right, a living room to the left, and doors to the rooms and bathrooms further in. It’s chrome and exposed brick and, Will hates to admit, really nice. There’s no disgusting bean bag chair stinking up the living room. There’s a balcony that literally overlooks the arena. Will whistles.

“Still think this is the worst thing that could have happened to you?” Derek chirps.

“Jury’s still out,” Will answers, just because he’s an asshole. “It’s nice. George did good. Uh, George is the one who found this place, right?”

Derek nods. He drops Will’s bag onto the kitchen island and makes his way over to the fridge. There’s not much in there, so Will makes a note to go grocery shopping soon, but Derek pulls out a Brita and two glasses from a cabinet. “Georgia Martin, our GM. You’ll meet her tomorrow. She wants to sit us both down and talk about, fuck, how we’re gonna adjust or whatever.”

It hits him suddenly, the realization that he’s so exhausted he can feel it in his bones. He just moved across an entire country. He stuffed all of his belongings into three suitcases and a backpack and tomorrow, he’s getting thrown in with a team he’s never met before and a whole new routine.

God, to top it all off, Derek Nurse is in their shared kitchen offering him a glance of water and looking so goddamn _ earnest _that Will really just feels lashing out again. This guy is charming and none of it is fucking fake, and Will is so pissed off that Derek is actually making it hard to hate him. They’re supposed to be rivals.

Fuck. No, they’re supposed to be _ friends _ now.

Will scowls. “She’s probably going to media train us on how to act like we don’t fucking hate each other. Welcome to Providence, don’t act like a dipshit or you’ll get traded again.”

This time, when Derek frowns, he doesn’t try to hide the hurt look on his expression. Will feels just as guilty as he did in the elevator. He sets the glass down so hard water splashes over the side. There’s a moment where he takes a deep breath, and when he finally looks up, his face is the picture of ease. “If you’re determined to hate me, I guess I can’t stop you,” Derek says with a shrug and a slight smile. 

“Does anything rile you up?” Will asks, desperate for some kind of chink in this guy’s armor that will make him seem relatable. Desperate for anything that he can latch onto and cling to as he remembers they have to be friends.

Derek picks up his glass and moves down the hall, presumably to his bedroom. Will supposes he shouldn’t be surprised he’s not getting more of a grand tour. Derek calls out as he opens a door, “Just wait till we’re on the ice, man.”

* * *

If Will thought Sabeen was scary, Georgia Martin is a goddamn hurricane.

He and Derek sit in neat chairs in her neat office and the clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence of the room. Derek seems unfazed by the fact that they’re sitting in Georgia’s office without her present. Will tries not to tap his leg anxiously.

“What time was our meeting again?” Will finally asks, exasperated.

“My time is very valuable, Mr. Poindexter, I hope you’re not implying that I waste it,” says a voice as the door opens and the sound of heels clicking on tile hit the floor. Will flushes pink and turns in his seat. Georgia Martin is as immaculate as her office, wearing a three-piece suit like that’s what she wears every Thursday. “Derek, great to see you.”

“Loving the charcoal suit, George,” Derek says in response, still wearing that obnoxious easy grin.

“Miss Martin, I certainly didn’t mean to imply—” Will starts to say.

Georgia sits down at her chair and gives him a smile. “Will, honey. Take a deep breath. It’s called chirping, or is that something they don’t do out in Seattle?”

Will blushes deeper. Derek smirks next to him like the cat who caught the canary, and Georgia’s eyes twinkle with mirth.

“God, I forget how young the rookies are,” Georgia says with a laugh. “I’ll properly introduce myself. I’m George Martin, this is my organization, and we are thrilled to have you here, Will. I hope you feel the same way about being here.”

“Nervous but excited for the opportunity, ma’am,” Will says.

Derek snorts. “Kiss-ass,” he mutters under his breath. Will’s shoulders tense.

Georgia sighs. “Glad to see you guys are over this petty rivalry,” she says. Will stops himself from crossing his arms like a petulant child. “Well, we might as well get into it, then, right? The awards ceremony is next Wednesday, the two of you will be attending together. Give the illusion that you two are actually friends and reassure people that you won’t be running my organization into the ground, alright?”

Derek gives her a lazy salute.

“Derek, you’ll be doing an Instagram takeover this weekend to introduce people to Will,” Georgia says. She hands him a file that Derek doesn’t even flip through. “Show them your new place, go furniture shopping, take him out to your favorite haunts. Look friendly, give them some laughs, you know the drill. Will, we just need you to look exasperated and grumpy. Nothing too off course for you.”

Will opens and closes his mouth, unsure what to say. Next to him, Derek stifles a laugh. Will hates him.

“I don’t mean that in a mean way,” Georgia continues. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“No, I know,” Will says quickly. “Exasperated and grumpy. My default. Got it.”

Derek smirks. “He definitely does.”

“I hate you.”

Georgia snaps her fingers. “Stuff like that,” she says with a grin. “But also, friendly. You guys have been friends for a least a year. You’re close, you shared this huge life experience together. You both just came out of your first year in the NHL.”

Will decides he doesn’t care if it makes him seem childish, he crosses his arms and resolutely looks away from Derek.

“I get it,” Georgia says. Her tone is reassuring. Will thinks she actually does understand. “This isn’t the damage control either of you expected to deal with. Honestly, it’s not ideal for any of us. But it’s our safest bet. And who knows, maybe you both will actually become friends after this. Stranger things have happened, you know.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Will mutters under his breath, at the same time that Derek says enthusiastically, “I think we’re going to become _ best _friends.”

_This,_ Will thinks, _is going to be a living nightmare._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on [tumblr](https://tonytangredis.tumblr.com/) about this fic, nurseydex in general, or anything else you might need to yell about
> 
> comment, bookmark, kudos below! see y'all next week!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i can't believe it's already been a week! it's monday in some time zones right? right? let's just say yes and pretend i didn't post this instead of sleeping yeah?

Derek wakes up with a migraine he can feel all the way down in his knees.

He groans halfheartedly and turns on his other side, away from the window and the lights from the street streaming through. There’s a water bottle somewhere on one side of his bed, but he doesn’t care to find it right now.

It’s quiet, in the rest of the apartment. He assumes Will is still asleep. The clock on his nightstand reads 4:57, and he groans again.

Hell of a way to start his Saturday.

Wallowing does him no good, and there’s no chance he’s gonna fall back asleep with his head pounding like this, so he stumbles to the bathroom and sits down in the tub without turning on the light. It takes him a few minutes to work up the strength to shed off his t-shirt and boxers and turn on the water as hot as it will go. He lets himself sit under the spray, curled up and head ducked and breathes in the steam as much as possible.

Twenty-one years of living has taught him that there isn’t much he can do to make his migraines go away, but there are a few things he can do to make it easier.

Derek loses track of how long he sits under the water, but eventually his skin starts to feel burned raw so he stands and grabs his bottle of shampoo.

The bathroom is filled with steam when he finally steps out of the shower. In his medicine cabinet there is migraine medication and a nausea pill that he swallows dry. He wraps a towel around his waist and goes to sit on the edge of his bed, phone in hand.

Jack texted him to set a date for brunch sometime this week. There’s a notification with an article from the NHL app about the Blues that he doesn’t bother reading. A text from his sister and his mom, and one from George. It has the login information for the Falconers official Instagram page.

“Aw, shit,” Derek mutters. He’d almost forgotten.

* * *

** _@provfalconers added to their Story:_ ** _ [Derek smiles at the camera, big and charming. He gives a little wave. His own Instagram handle is at the bottom of the screen.] Hey, guys! Derek Nurse, number twenty-eight, d-man for the Falcs here. Man, I’m hella excited to do this takeover with you this weekend. This is my first time, so go easy on me, right? Chill. _

** _@provfalconers added to their Story: _ ** _ [Derek snaps his fingers. He has moved to a new room. There is a box to submit questions on the screen.] Oh, I almost forgot! I’ll be with you guys for the next two days, but send in some of your most burning questions for me and our newest Falc, Will Poindexter. He’s just as thrilled as I am about this. _

** _@provfalconers added to their Story: _ ** _ [The camera now shows an unmade bed with a person still asleep in the covers. From behind the camera, someone throws a pillow that hits the person with a loud smack. A tuft of untidy red hair pokes up.] Dude, what the fu_—

** _@provfalconers added to their Story: _ ** _ [There is a selfie of Derek looking sheepish. It’s captioned, “Hockey players have potty mouths in the morning. Sorry!!!”] _

* * *

“I hate Instagram takeover,” Will mutters angrily. He pulls two plates down from the cabinet and sets them down loudly on the counter. From his spot at the stove, Derek hides his laugh behind a spatula. “I hate you. Pillow to the face? Are you fucking serious?”

“They think our friendship is based on antagonizing one another, what am I supposed to do but give the people what they want?” Derek asks, overly sweet. Will shoots daggers at him. It’s kind of cute, if Derek is being honest, in a way that doesn’t seem possible for a 6 '2 shredded professional hockey player. “I’ll warn you next time.”

Will splutters indignantly. “No next time, Derek!”

Derek cackles. He takes one of the plates and serves an omelette onto a plate and points to the fridge. “There’s fruit in there, please grab some.”

“Oh my god,” Will mutters, but he moves to the fridge and pulls out sliced pineapple and blueberries.

He doesn’t say anything as Derek takes a picture of his plate, captions it with “_The breakfast of champions!_” and posting it on Instagram. He sits down at the counter and starts to dig in. Will shuffles from foot to foot awkwardly. Derek sighs and takes pity on him.

“You can sit down next to me, you know,” he says, gesturing to the stool next to him. “I won’t bite. Yet, at least.”

Will flushes a delightful red. Derek’s growing quite fond of it. Will hesitates for another second before sliding into the seat and digging in to his own omelette.

“How long do you have to do this stupid takeover thing anyway?” Will asks.

“All weekend,” Derek says. The thought of it makes his migraine worse, so he forces out a teasing smirk. “You’re gonna have to put up with my antics for two straight days, you sure you can handle it?”

Will snorts. “I’ll be putting up with your antics for one whole year, or have you already forgotten?”

Derek hides his smile again.

Is it twisted that he enjoys how easy it is to rile Will up? Probably. He can’t find it within himself to be all that bothered by it, though. The guy went on an impassioned rant about how little Derek deserved his accomplishments; sue him if he wants to see Will sweat a bit.

And god knows he’d never admit it, but he was secretly relieved when George pulled him into her office and told him he was gonna have a semi-permanent roommate. He’s been with the Falcs a year, he got to live with Jack, and it was amazing—but hell, he’s still a twenty-one-year-old kid who has never lived on his own before. Who has only had a professional athletic career for nine months, give or take. He was a bit relieved to have someone to share space with. Someone who might even get what he’s going through.

The tormenting part? That’s just an added bonus.

“It hasn’t been bad so far,” Derek tells him. His voice is dripping with an honesty that catches Will’s attention. Hook, line, and sinker. “Getting to wake up and see your pretty face every morning.”

Will blushes again. There’s a scowl on his face and Derek is _ thrilled _ at it. “Can you go eight seconds without flirting?” he grumbles. Derek senses there’s no real heat behind it, even as Will sits there like he’s gearing up for a brawl.

“Says the guy who tried to flirt _ with me _ by calling me pretty and then immediately insulting my hockey.”

“That was not flirting.”

Derek smirks. “Oh, I see. I’ll hold out for the real stuff then. I’m sure you’ll impress me once you bring out the big guns. Oh, please let the guns be your arms. Are they your arms? I mean, seriously dude, have you seen your biceps?”

Will barks out a noise that could almost be a laugh, if the look on his face wasn’t so goddamn sour. It’s amazing, Derek decides, watching Will react to things. “Fuck off.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I think your biceps are a prime target for the next update on Insta. You’re gonna have so many puck bunnies thirst following you, buddy.”

Will sighs as Derek pulls out his phone. “I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do,” Derek says cheerfully. He points his phone camera at Will. “Show us those muscles! Show us! Flex, flex, flex, flex, _ flex_—”

“I _ hate _you,” Will insists, but he’s smirking when he flexes.

* * *

** _@provfalconers added to their Story: _ ** _ [Derek and Will are walking down a street in Providence, both sporting various Falconers merchandise. Derek is skipping, while Will trudges alongside him.] Okay guys, so today Will and I are going shopping for a couch, because neither of us had the foresight to buy one before we moved in. So it’s question answering time! _

** _@provfalconers added to their Story: _ ** _ [There’s a selfie of Derek holding a tiny succulent and beaming proudly at it. The question at the bottom of the screen reads, “Nursey will we be seeing updates of your plants’ adventures again like you did when you lived with Jack Zimmermann?” Overlaid on the plant, the text block reads, “God I hope so!! Just have to convince Dex that we won’t kill any plant we have in our place!”] _

** _@provfalconers added to their Story: _ ** _ [Will is intently reading an assembly manual for a couch. The question on the screen reads, “Do you guys have any inside jokes?!” Derek is off camera but can be heard in the video.] Dexy, do you want to tell them about our inside jokes? Dude, don’t just walk— Dex! _

** _@provfalconers added to their Story: _ ** _ [Derek and Will pose with a fan wearing the same Falconers shirt as Will. Derek is giving the camera a thumbs up. The question on the screen reads, “We can’t wait for season to open!! Do you guys look forward to meeting fans as much as we look forward to meeting you?” Overlaid on the legs of the three people in the photo, the text block reads, “It’s honestly one of the most rewarding parts of this job. -Dex”] _

** _@provfalconers added to their Story:_ ** _ [There is a picture of Will sitting at a table. There is a plate of sausage and a half-drunk bottle of water next to him. He isn’t looking at the camera, but is looking out the window, where a view of Providence can also be seen in the picture. The question on the screen reads, “Poindexter, do you feel like you’re adjusting okay so far to Rhode Island?” There is no caption, but there is a slight smile on Will’s face that is just as telling.] _

  
  
  


> **William J. Poindexter ✔️** @willpoindexter24
> 
> He’s refusing to post it on Instagram but I’d like the world to know that @dnursey didn’t measure the doorway or the stairwell so now we have a couch that will not fit.

* * *

It’s clear that Will either doesn’t remember it or doesn’t want to, but Derek knows they’ve met before.

It was a few months before the draft. Everyone was on edge and hockey wasn’t solving any problems like it usually did. Derek was fucking _ sick _of living in Toronto. He’d asked his host family if he could borrow a car, and when they tossed him a set of keys he hadn’t even hesitated on the way out the door. Toronto had a chill that didn’t seem to leave Derek alone even when it was supposed to be getting warmer.

He drove until he found some hole-in-the-wall coffee place that was still open and parked the car. Derek still isn’t sure how long he sat there and stared at the building before he finally found it within himself to move. At this point in his life, all he could do was pray to god that all this stress would be worth it. The draft was soon, and all his hard work would either land him in the NHL or get him as close as he’d ever be. He had hoped that the pressures put on him would decrease after this.

A bell jingled as he went inside. There was only one employee at the counter, and she gave him a soft smile and only charged him for a black coffee even though he ordered a latte. Her kindness was the realest thing he had felt in a while. And then he stood there, most likely looking like an idiot, staring between the doors and the tables and trying to decide if he should stay.

Eventually he realized he wasn’t alone.

There was another patron in the coffee shop, though he’d been sitting silently this whole time. Head down on his arms, curled in on himself, a mostly-empty cup of coffee in front of him. His hood was up. Derek’s eyes would have skipped right over him if he hadn’t been wearing the hoodies the league had given everyone in an attempt to help with bonding.

His name was on the back. Poindexter.

“Do you remember what that guy ordered?” Derek had quietly asked the barista. She nodded, and that same small smile was back when Derek paid for another one. He was content to leave it at that, and even started to head towards the door before something inside of him made him hesitate. He watched, hand on the doorknob, as the barista gently touched Poindexter’s shoulder and set the coffee down in front of him. He looked up at her with bleary eyes and an exhaustion that Derek recognized, then he glanced at the coffee, and then he looked right at Derek.

Derek raised his own coffee cup in solidarity. Poindexter smiled back. Barely, but it was a smile.

The next day, rumors broke that they were going to be pitted against each other in the draft, both in the race for first pick. When Derek tried to seek him out again, he got word from some of Poindexter’s buddies that the guy wanted nothing to do with him from here on out.

So, whatever. Derek knew he could handle a rivalry.

This friendship thing though? That’s a whole other beast.

* * *

> **Derek Nurse ✔️** @dnursey
> 
> **replied to @willpoindexter:** i would like to clarify FOR THE RECORD that we made it work. our apartment has a couch!!!!!! who needs practical things like a measuring tape?!?

  
  
  


** _@provfalconers added to their Story: _ ** _ [A picture shows Will and Derek sitting on opposite ends of a new couch. Derek’s arms are thrown up in the air, but Will is rolling his eyes. The photo is captioned with a poll: “NEW COUCH! Do you think we should break it in with a housewarming party?” _

* * *

“I swear to god, dude, if you call me Ross one more time I will end your life,” Derek warns. "That guy is the worst character TV ever produced and I refuse to be equated to him."

Will runs his hand against the couch cushion again. He hasn’t stopped looking surprised since they managed to get the couch in. Derek considers that a victory in his favor.

“_Pivot_,” Will says for the seventeenth time. Derek brandishes a water bottle threateningly at him. “Not gonna lie, dude, I truly don’t know how you did that.”

“Sheer determination.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Mathematically impossible.”

Derek harrumphs. “Mathematics don’t matter when you’re a _ god_.”

“I hate you.”

Derek collapses heavily on his side of the couch. It’s been a long day, made longer by the migraine that hasn’t even dulled since the morning, and he feels entitled to some laziness for the rest of the afternoon. Besides, his couch is _ mad _ comfortable. He’s honestly thrilled it worked out. Mostly thrilled that Will finally pulled the stick out of his ass and stopped acting like a whiny bitch at every couch Derek tried to present to him.

“You say that, and yet you’re willingly hanging out with me right now.”

Will takes a drink from his own water bottle. “This couch is comfortable,” he says, like it’s an excuse. Derek grins. “Don’t let it go to your head. We still aren’t real friends.”

“Oh, baby, you say the nicest things,” Derek deadpans. “Are you telling me you didn’t have any fun today? Instagram takeover actually ruined your life?”

Will lolls his head until he can look at Derek. There's resignation in his expression that Derek can understand. He wonders if they’ll ever stop for a while and just let themselves be friends to one another. “It didn’t ruin my life,” he allows. “You throwing a pillow at my head, that ruined my morning. Holding a couch up for an hour while you tried to figure out how to get it inside, that ruined my muscles. But no, Derek, the Instagram takeover did not ruin my life today.”

There’s a pause, and then Will says quickly, “Please do not make it a mission to actually ruin my life tomorrow.”

Derek throws his head back and laughs.

For the first time that Derek can recall, they settle down with the silence in between them. Will picks at a loose thread on his hoodie and Derek, phone on the lowest possible brightness, scrolls through DMs to see if there’s any more questions he feels like answering. It feels almost domestic, and maybe it would be if it weren’t for the fact that the guy on the other end of the couch loathes him.

“Do you have something planned for tomorrow?” Will asks hesitantly.

Derek looks up. “Uh, not really. A workout in the morning. Brunch with Jack Zimmermann. Come home and watch tape highlights and see if I can figure out what I’m doing wrong with my feet that’s letting all these forwards pass me.”

Will tugs on the thread until it starts to pull out more and then he winces at it. It’s a surprisingly human thing for Will to do. Derek hates that he’s endeared by it. “If we have to do this takeover thing again, do you think you could take me shopping? I don’t have any clothes that aren’t Schooners related, pretty much, since they basically told me to take what I could pack into a bag. Also, Bowser had no decency and half my wardrobe was probably in his laundry basket still. I just—I need clothes.”

It’s the first time Derek has seen real sincerity out of Will. It’s kind of strange, if he’s being honest, because he’s so used to bantering back and forth, going for the snide remark instead of the honest response. He has to stop his brain from saying something teasing automatically.

“I have noticed that your wardrobe needs mad assistance,” Derek says finally. He gives Will a sugary smile when Will rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we can go shopping. I’ll show you all the best shops. Introduce you to my people. Show you that fashion does not start and end with a hoodie from your days in the juniors.”

Will tilts his head back until he’s resting against the cushions of the couch. There’s relief in his shoulders, so palpable even Derek can see it, but there’s still a bite when he says, “Fuck off.”

Progress, Derek decides, doesn’t have to mean a complete personality change.

* * *

**To: jacky z**

**[7:23pm] **hey do you care if dex joins us at brunch

**[7:23pm]** uh poindexter

**[7:24pm]** william j poindexter the first, new trade to the falconers

**From: jacky z**

**[7:27pm]** I know who Dex is.

**[7:27pm]** I don’t mind. It would be good for you both to keep bonding. The stronger your dynamic is, the more it will help the team.

**[7:28pm]** I’ll pay for his meal if he gets you to stay calm for an hour.

**To: jacky z**

**[7:28pm]** OMG who taught you how to chirp

**[7:29pm]** ur paying anyway you’re a captain

**From: jacky z**

**[7:41pm]** I’ve played hockey for years Nursey I know how to chirp.

**[7:42pm] **See you both tomorrow. Please don’t kill our new defensemen before we get there.

**[7:42pm] ***bird emoji*

**To: jacky z**

**[7:45pm] **oh my god jUST USE THE BIRD EMOJI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you'll see some variation of this on every update i'm sure but i truly can't believe the feedback this story is getting and i'm honestly just thrilled that you are all enjoying it as much as i'm enjoying writing it. the comments you guys leave both here and on tumblr blow me away, so thank you all!
> 
> as always, i'm on [tumblr](https://tonytangredis.tumblr.com/) where i'm most likely yelling over nurseydex (obviously) or recently, reddie (i know), but am usually around even if you just need to yell.
> 
> comment, bookmark, kudos below! see y'all next week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is affectionately known as "william j poindexter has a minor gay panic over jack zimmermann and honestly, who can fault him for it?"

**From: Bowser**

**[7:58am]** You haven’t even texted me once since this trade are you dead did Nurse kill you or did you really replace me with your archnemisis Dexter I am hurt.

**To: Bowser**

**[8:04am]** Why are you up this early. It’s like five where you are

**From: Bowser**

**[8:05am]** Wow totally ignoring my questions classic diversion technique its okay man you can just tell me I’ve been replaced :/

**To: Bowser**

**[8:07am]** I hate you

**[8:07am]** I didn’t replace you with Nurse

**From: Bowser**

**[8:09am]** I bet you say that to all the girls

**To: Bowser**

**[8:15am]** I am starting to think I like him better than I like you though

**From: Bowser**

**[8:16am]** WOW.

**[8:19am] **Hugsy is even more insufferable without you to knock him down a few pegs

**[8:19am]** Think there’s room on prov’s roster for me???

**To: Bowser**

**[8:20am]** I’m meeting Jack Zimmermann today

**From: Bowser**

**[8:21am] **RIP William Josephine Poindexter the world hardly knew ye

* * *

Will looks like he’s gonna hurl, and Derek feels oddly glad by it.

He smacks Will on the back once and gives him a thrilled smile when Will turns to glare at him. “You look positively terrified, Dexy. Don’t tell me this is your first time meeting an NHL player?”

“I fucking hate you,” Will mutters. By now, he’s said it so much that Derek doesn’t believe it even a little bit. “This is not—this isn’t just an NHL player, it’s fucking _ hockey royalty _ and oh my god I’m gonna be meeting him wearing a hoodie that isn’t even mine.”

Derek sighs dramatically, for effect. “Dude, I promise you, Jack is gonna show up in, like. Some kind of Falcs shirt, and basketball shorts, and, like, probably those hideous yellow trainers he doesn’t go anywhere without. The guy is a hockey god but I promise it loses its shine after you hear him talk for half an hour about baking trends during World War I.”

Will fidgets with his hair one more time. If Derek wasn’t so set on hating this guy, he might even be endeared by it. He’s getting used to Will’s sharp edges and biting remarks, loathe as he is to admit it. He’s almost enjoying their banter now. Almost. 

“Oh my god, Poindexter, you have like the world’s lamest flow, you can’t fix hair that’s like half a centimeter long and I’m starving, let’s _ go_,” Derek finally snaps. He grabs Will’s hood and tugs him forward, relishing in the way Will splutters indignantly. “Jack _ will _hate you if we’re late.”

That, at least, gets him to shut up.

Will’s anxiety must be contagious, because Derek spends the whole drive bouncing his leg and shooting darting glances back at Will. On his end, Will doesn’t tear his eyes from looking outside once. It’s been like this, on all their drives—silent car rides with Derek sparing him a glance or two and Will tracking the environment as they pass by. Derek wonders how different it is from Seattle. How different it is from Maine. He wonders what he would feel like if he was in Will’s position, thrown onto a team across the country from his hometown just to be thrown back east not even a full year later.

He clears his throat and turns the music up a little louder.

“Give me your phone,” Will says suddenly. He sticks his hand out without looking at Derek.

“What?”

“Give me your _ phone_,” Will snaps again. Derek places it into his hands and watches curiously out of the corner of his eye as Will swipes it open and clicks on Instagram. He takes a picture of the pier as they pass by, an aesthetic thing with a building off center and the water gleaming brilliantly. He types out a quick caption, posts the story, and tosses Derek’s phone back. “Thanks.”

Derek resists the urge to check the picture, instead putting his phone back in the cup holder where it had been before. “Uh, what was that?”

Will scowls. Out of the corner of Derek’s eye, it looks almost comical. “It was a picture. For the stupid Instagram Takeover.”

“Aw, Dexy. You’re _ participating _”

Will grumbles and crosses his arms. “Unenthusiastically,” he clarifies, but Derek doesn’t believe him for a second.

“That’s cute. _ Cute_, Dex.”

“I hate you.”

Derek hums. “I don’t think you do.”

“You keep saying that like it’s gonna change how I feel,” Will huffs. Derek thinks there might be an eye roll attached. He wonders if he’ll ever grow tired of finding ways to get under Will’s skin.

“Oh, baby, I’d never want to change how you feel about me.”

Will sighs like he’s the most tortured person on the planet. “Can you park? We’re here.”

“Sir, yes sir, Mr. Passenger-Seat-Driver,” Derek says with a lazy salute. “You sure think you’re some kind of big hot shot who knows his way around Rhode Island now, huh?”

“This state is like, the size of a thumbtack, it’s not that hard.”

“Oh, Will, I can’t wait for you to grow accustomed like the rest of us and start thinking that anything longer than a fifteen minute drive is a commute.”

Will gives him a sharp glare. It’s the first time he’s ever looked at Derek while they’ve been in the car, which feels dumb to notice, but Derek does anyway. “I grew up in a tiny ass town in Maine,” he says incredulously. “We had to drive, like, thirty minutes just to get to my high school.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “You’re making that up, oh my god, I know where you’re from, Dex. Get out of the car.”

Will grumbles in his seat and opens the passenger door. “I’m probably going to die at this brunch and it’s all going to be your fault.”

“Oh, no, whatever will I do with your absence in my life?” Derek asks sarcastically. He pushes his door open and slides out, resisting the urge to roll his eyes since he knows Will can’t see him.

“Holy fuck,” Will says.

Derek takes a deep breath. “Oh, come on, dude, that’s not even the meanest thing I’ve ever said to you—”

“Holy _ fuck_,” Will repeats with feeling, and Derek realizes Will isn’t talking to him at all. He peers over the car to see what Will is doing and is greeted by the sight of Will, frozen with his mouth literally hanging open. Derek tracks his gaze and has to stifle a laugh when he sees what Will’s staring at.

“Oh good, Jack beat us here,” he says happily. Will makes a shocked noise that Derek thinks will echo in his ears for a long, long time. Chirp fodder for _ years. _

“Jesus Christ,” Will squeaks. “Oh, god. Please slap me across the face and knock some sense into me before I completely lose my cool in front of Jack Zimmermann. Holy actual fuck, that’s Jack Zimmermann in the flesh. I’m gonna throw up. What the fuck is my life?”

Derek slaps him on the back. “Welcome to the Falconers, kid,” he says, with a grin he knows must look obnoxious. If he were a better man, he’d help Will calm down before dragging him to meet his childhood idol. But Derek is petty and he’s enjoying this starstruck look on Will’s face far too much. “You ready?”

“_No_,” Will says vehemently, but his feet move forward with Derek regardless.

“Oh my god, dude, chill.”

Will hisses, “Fuck off. Are you telling me you didn’t panic at all the first time you met him? Oh, god.”

Derek honest to god burst into tears the second Jack extended his hand to shake, but he blames it mostly on the post-draft emotions and the exhaustion that comes from a big move. And he’ll _ die _ before he ever tells Will that.

“He’s a big nerd,” Derek murmurs. He hopes it comes out as reassuring. “Seriously, once you get to know this guy, you’re gonna think he’s a huge dork. Phenomenal hockey player, weird obsession with history.”

Will makes a strangled sound. “His ass is spectacular. Oh, god, I’m gonna say that to his face. Please duct-tape my fucking mouth.”

“As much as I would enjoy shutting you up, no.”

“God, you must actually hate me. You dragged me to this brunch so I’d die of embarrassment.”

“Jack, hey!” Derek says loudly, cutting off whatever dumb rant Will was about to launch into. The last thing he needs is Will blabbing to Jack about how they haven’t become best buds already. Derek is half convinced that, if Jack knew, he’d lock them in a closet together until they worked everything out and he’d attest the whole thing to team bonding. “Good to see you, man.”

Jack stands and wraps his arms around Derek quickly. Will squeaks quietly next to them, clearly terrified at the prospect that Jack Zimmermann might actually hug him. Derek almost wishes he was recording this. He hopes to god there’s some kind of paparazzi or some shit out there today, just for once, so he can find pictures of this and look back at it later. 

But Jack just extends a hand to Will, who grasps it thankfully but doesn’t stop gawking. “Will Poindexter,” Jack says with a curt nod. “Welcome to the Falconers.”

“Um, yes, thank you sir, oh my god,” Will says. His face turns bright red in a second. Derek covers his laugh with a pitiful excuse of a cough. “Thank you for letting me crash your brunch, sir.”

Jack laughs uncomfortably and gestures at the table he’s secured them. “You don’t have to call me sir, Will, I’m not that much older than you” he says.

“Dex,” Derek supplies. Will shoots him a nasty look and Derek gives him a saccharine smile in response. “Hockey nickname, right? Team bonding? You can call him Dex.”

“Is that what they called you in Seattle?” Jack asks.

There’s a vein in Will’s forehead that looks like it might actually pop. Derek thinks his face might be permanently stuck in a grin if he doesn’t get it under control. “No, uh, they called me Dexter,” Will answers. He fiddles with a napkin on the table, and his face pinks up again when he realizes what he’s doing and drops his hands hastily to his lap. God, Derek wonders how this guy survived a literal full year on a professional hockey team if this is how he acts around minor celebrities.

Jack nods. “It’s great that Nursey gave you a new nickname, then. Hopefully that will help you feel acclimated to our team. We do want to do everything we can to make you feel comfortable here. Moving across the country is no small thing.”

“No, sir,” Will agrees. Derek has to force himself to look away when Will’s cheeks flush again. “Sorry. Um.” He fidgets uncomfortably in his seat. “Okay, I just have to say it. You should have gone first in the draft a few years ago. You would have. You’re, like, clearly the best player in the league. Also—”

“Hey, have you ever done an Instagram takeover, Jack?” Derek interrupts, because he can tell where Will is about to go. And as much as he doesn’t like the guy, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t _actively_ hate him. Will shoots him a grateful look that goes straight to his gut. Derek pointedly ignores it. “This shit is hard. Like, what’s worth posting?”

Jack laughs. “Well, I’ve coined a reputation of being a robot, so no, they haven’t trusted me to do a takeover. From what I saw yesterday, it seems like you’re doing a good job.”

“Means a lot, thanks, man,” Derek says. “Hey, let’s take a selfie for it! The fans will eat it up. As much as you’re the hockey robot on the team, you’re also a pretty face.” Derek winks at Jack, who rolls his eyes but sits forward anyway.

“You can scoot closer, Dex, I won’t bite,” Jack says, glancing at Will who is still frozen on the other end of the table. His eyes go a bit wide. The way he scoots his chair closer to Jack and Derek is almost comical. Derek resists the urge to cover his mouth to hide his smile.

It’s a nice picture. Will still looks starstruck, but the grin on his face is the most genuine one Derek has seen since they met. Jack is the picture of easy confidence, and Derek is smirking like this is something he gets to do every day.

Which—in a way, he supposes, it is.

God. It hits him hard, sometimes, the realization that this is his life. Brunch with hockey legends and Instagram takeovers and posing for photos with fans.

Even with the world’s most obnoxious new roommate, Derek kind of loves his life.

“Everyone looks great,” Derek says. “Even you, Dexy. You might grow into those large ears someday soon, buddy!”

To Derek’s absolute delight, Will’s ears turn pink. He shoots a quick look at Jack, which Derek recognizes as Will exercising self-restraint, and he mutters, “I hate you, Derek.”

Derek hums. “I don’t think you do,” he says, as he always does, and when the server comes to take their orders, they don’t get a chance to revisit the conversation.

* * *

**‘FALC SIGHTINGS: New Trade Meets Up With Hockey Legend’**

_ William Poindexter spotted with fellow defenseman Derek Nurse and legacy player Jack Zimmermann at brunch. _

It seems William Poindexter is having no trouble adjusting to life on the East Coast, and a lot of it can be attributed to his friendship with Derek Nurse. Over the past few days, the two have been spotted shopping for furniture, enjoying lunch at Panera, and perusing through Waterplace Park. All of this has been meticulously documented through the Providence Falconers official Instagram page, where Derek Nurse has been hosting an ‘Instagram Takeover’.

Today, however, Providence’s new favorite bromance was spotted sharing brunch with alternate captain Jack Zimmerman, and Poindexter couldn’t hide his starstruck expression. The Falconers organization is pulling out all the stops to help Poindexter feel welcomed to Rhode Island. Is this perhaps in response to rumors circulating that the trade was a result of Poindexter’s viral trash-talking of his “best friend”?

**Subscribe to Hockey Buzz for more updates…**

  
  
  


** _@provfalconers added to their Story: _ ** _ [A picture shows Will and Jack engaged in an intense game of tic-tac-toe on a notebook. Neither is looking at the camera, both staring at the notebook with focused looks on their faces. In front of them are their meals, both appearing to be half-eaten. The caption reads, “Don’t start a tic-tac-toe battle between the two most competitive people you know. (I think they’ve forgotten I’m here!)”] _

** _@provfalconers added to their Story: _ ** _ [A video shows Derek and Will walking out of a restaurant. Derek is focused on the camera, but Will is having an indistinct conversation with someone off screen.] Alright guys, day two of Instagram Takeover, and Will and I are hitting the shops again. Get ready for your typical early 2000s movie makeover montage. It’s gonna be sick. _

  
  


**From: Bowser**

**[1:43pm] **now you’ve replaced me with Jack Zimmermann too?!

**[1:44pm]** Did you at least ask Jack if there was room for me on the roster? :/

* * *

“Why am I getting multiple tweets asking me what my favorite 2000s movie is?” Will asks flatly. He’s got his phone in one hand and at least six shirts draped over his other arm, but he’s scowling at the screen like it's personally offended him. He doesn’t even look up when Derek adds another shirt to the pile.

“Because I told them we were doing, like, a whole movie makeover montage thing ala Amy Adams in Enchanted,” Derek says. “What do you think of this shirt?”

Will looks up from his phone and starts to scowl at the shirt like it’s personally offended him. Derek wonders if this dude knows any other ways to arrange his face. “I think you’re insane if you think I’m gonna wear that. You’re turning me into a makeover montage?”

Derek puts the shirt back on the rack. “Why not?”

“Uh, I don’t want to pose for pictures?”

“Dexy,” Derek whines. He grabs a nice looking jacket and adds it to Will’s pile. “Please. For me.”

Will looks at him. “In what universe would I do something for you?”

“Ouch,” Derek mutters. “And here I am thinking we might actually start to be friends.”

“Someone has to still believe the rivalry between us is alive and strong,” Will says dryly. “We can’t lose our spark, baby.”

Derek laughs. “Now, stop that. If you keep making me laugh, then we really will start to be friends, and then what will we do about our rivalry, William? What will Jack say when you tear this family apart?”

Will sighs. “How many shirts are you going to hand me?”

“Dexington, have you never seen a movie, ever? Do you think the heroine just tries on three shirts and calls it good? This is a _ montage._ We need a lot of stuff. And good music, probably.”

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody,” Will says quickly.

Derek blinks. He turns on his heel and raises an eyebrow. “Dex, bro, you didn’t even hesitate.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Have you never seen 13 Going On 30? Tell me that’s not one of the most iconic makeover montages of all time, dude.”

Derek’s mouth does this thing where it opens and closes a few times but no sound comes out. He can’t tell if he’s more surprised that Will has actually seen movies with makeover montages, or that Will has strong opinions about them. He swallows the lump in his throat and wonders, half-distracted, why his heart feels like it could pound out of his chest. “Now we’re really in dangerous territory to becoming friends, man.”

“Bite your tongue.”

Derek turns quickly so that Will doesn’t see the smile that takes over his face. Dangerous territory indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you again for your incredibly kind words in response to this story! everything you guys say makes me so excited for the next update day because i can't wait to see what you say next. i love u all.
> 
> CAPTAIN'S LOG:  
um?! this week i found out i got into nursing school starting next semester! which is as thrilling as it is terrifying. i will probably always be in shock. also exciting news, i am officially down to one last box to unpack in the new place, so... yay moving! at least we're done for the foreseeable future. ANYWAY there's my life update!
> 
> as always, i'm on [tumblr](https://tonytangredis.tumblr.com/) where i'm most likely yelling over nurseydex (obviously) or still, recently, reddie (listen. i can't stop), but i'm probably lurking around if you want to yell about these characters or this story or anything in general.
> 
> comment, bookmark, kudos below! see y'all next week!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update is a) very late and b) not very long and c) posted on a day that is not the day i promised to post on BUT in my defense i have had a very... busy past few weeks and am just getting my head on straight. anyway i wanted to post SOMETHING so here's a small little blurb; the next bit will be more shenanigans, as can be expected!

Jack opens the door quietly and toes inside, but even with how gently he moves, Bitty still calls out from the kitchen, “Hi, honey.”

He pads into the kitchen and presses a kiss to the top of Bitty’s head. Bitty smiles and leans into it but doesn’t look up from his flashcards. “How was your day?” he asks.

Jack opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of Powerade and takes a good sip before he answers. “Surprisingly good. I met our new defenseman, Will Poindexter. I think he’ll be a great asset on the team once he starts to feel comfortable.”

Bitty hums. “And how’s his little rivalry with Derek Nurse?”

“What?” Jack lowers his drink. “Rivalry?”

“Sweetheart, do you live under a rock? Their rivalry has been all the hype since the trade was announced.”

Jack blinks. “They’re friends.”

The look Bitty gives him is exasperated. He puts another flashcard down and writes something in French on it. “Well, duh, they’re acting friendly because of all the drama. Jack Zimmermann, are you telling me that all this gossip about your team all around you and you’re still completely oblivious to it?”

“There’s drama?”

“ _ Jack _ ,” Bitty laughs.

Jack wraps an arm around Bitty from behind and plasters himself to Bitty’s back. Bitty rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. “They’re friends. I spent almost two hours with them and never got any other impression. Seems like they’ve been friends for years. There’s a lot of chirping in their friendship, but none of it is mean. It’s nice.”

Bitty leans back against Jack. “Mm, if I remember correctly, Mr. Zimmermann, there used to be a lot of chirping in the early stages of our relationship.”

Jack wrinkles his nose. “Are you saying—”

“No,” Bitty says with another hum. He turns in Jack’s grip until they’re facing one another, then he reaches up to twine his fingers through Jack’s hair. “Just remembering what we used to be like. The pining… The efforts we went through to spend time together… Your flirty comments that I thought were just compliments on my hockey playing.”

“Well, I happen to find your hockey playing very flirtatious,” Jack says seriously. He grips Bitty’s hips and pulls him closer, relishing in the way Bitty fits perfectly against him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.

Bitty’s fingernails scrape lightly against Jack’s scalp. “Well, Mr. Zimmermann, wait until you see how else I can flirt.”

Jack leans down, bumping his nose against Bitty’s and teasing a kiss. Bitty presses up on his tiptoes. “You’ve got studying to do,” he reminds Bitty, but his grip doesn’t loosen and he makes no efforts to pull away.

“Au contraire,” Bitty counters, and Jack is laughing when he’s tugged the rest of the way down into a kiss.

* * *

The second time a video of Will goes viral, at least he’s expecting it.

George calls Will at the crack of dawn on Monday morning and, in an eerily calm voice, asks if he and Derek could make it in before 8am to see her. Will blinks blearily at the clock on his nightstand that reads just past seven and tells her he’ll do his best.

She’s otherwise unbothered by the sight of two rumpled hockey players sitting in her chairs wearing sweatpants and mismatched socks, in Derek’s case, or socks and sandals, in Will’s. Will supposes she’s used to seeing all of her team like this.

George, of course, looks immaculate, and Will is struck suddenly with the horrifying realization that he didn’t brush his teeth before coming over here.

“Instagram takeover went great,” she tells them, straight to business. Her smile is genuine. “Our numbers are up. Derek, people love you, and our follower count hopped significantly with you behind the handle. Great job.”

Derek’s eyes are closed but he gives her a lazy grin and shoots her some finger guns. “Good to know that once I blow out my knee, I’ll have a shot in the social media department.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” George laughs. She turns to Will next. “Will. You went viral again last night.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Will says automatically.

George raises an eyebrow at him and he clamps his mouth shut, cheeks already flushing a dark red. Derek stifles a laugh next to him, and Will shoots him a halfhearted glare. “Oh, no, this was definitely your doing,” George tells him, but she grins at him and the tension in Will’s chest loosens. “The good thing is, you went viral in a good way this time. Providence fans are eating you up.”

She slides a tablet over his way, the screen already opened up to a video. Will sits forward and presses play.

It’s a video from their shopping spree, which he supposes he should have expected. Derek’s face takes up one tiny corner of the screen, alit with giggles, but the important part of the video is Will in the background, loudly singing as he puts clothing back on hangers in the dressing room. There isn’t a caption, but there hadn’t needed to be one.

Will turns bright pink and turns to glare at Derek. “You posted that? I thought I was alone!”

“Which is why I made absolutely no sound,” Derek says sweetly. “And god, was it  _ worth  _ it.”

“I hate you,” Will snaps. His cheeks are on fire.

George pulls the tablet back towards her, seemingly unfazed by the argument unfolding in front of her. She clicks it shut and clears her throat, waiting until both Derek and Will turn to face her. “The important thing here is, Will, that video made you super likeable. Grumpy NHL player has a secret love for 80s pop ballads. It’s cute.”

“I’m a hockey player, I am not  _ cute _ .”

Derek pokes his cheek and laughs when Will slaps his hand away. “I’d say he’s kind of cute, George.”

Will folds his arms and grumbles quietly to himself.

“The  _ point _ ,” George continues, with a sharp look that shuts both of them up, “is that I think we can safely say we are past the worst part of this. We’ve integrated you well onto the team, the PR nightmare is over, you guys can go back to your regularly scheduled getting-to-know-each-other. You can let up the reins on showing the world that you are actually friends.”

Derek leans forward, shit-eating grin on his face. “Good news, George, Dex and I are well on our way to becoming  _ actual  _ friends.”

Deadpan, Will says, “We are mortal enemies.”

George looks between the two of them. “Somehow I don’t believe either of you,” she says with a sigh. “But the good news is, I don’t have to. Your dynamic is being eaten up out there. Everyone loves your friendship. Keep up the good work.”

“Did you call us here at eight in the morning just to tell us that we’re good at pretending to be friends so now we’re off the hook? Couldn’t this have just been a phone call?” he grumbles, slumping down in his seat.

“It could have,” George allows. “Unfortunately that isn’t the only reason I had you come in today. Will, I want to introduce you to the rest of your team.”

Will sits up so fast his back pops. “Wait, right  _ now _ ?”

George raises an eyebrow. “Unless you have somewhere else to be.”

“Everyone?” Will stresses. His voice climbs an octave or two.

Derek, the bastard, seems to be taking far too much delight in this. “Did you think that we’d just throw you on the ice one day without meeting everyone? That you’d never have to meet anyone because they’d just be players in jerseys? Buddy.”

“No, you ass,” Will snaps. “But it’s the off-season! Is everyone here? Why is everyone here? God, I look like a  _ mess _ , George, I would have—I would have put on real pants, I would have brushed my teeth! Oh, my  _ god _ .”

Then, to Will’s total surprise, Derek sighs and leans forward and puts a reassuring hand on Will’s knee. “Dude, it’s gonna be okay. All of these people used to be rookies, they’ve been where you are. And all of them know how trade season works. They’ll expect you to be a little scrambled. They’re still gonna love you. They’re going to chirp you halfway to hell for wearing a Schooners hoodie even though you and I  _ just  _ went shopping yesterday, but they are going to love you. Okay?”

Will’s mouth opens in surprise, but no sound comes out. Derek squeezes his knee and gives him a smile that he thinks is meant to be reassuring.

“That was  _ nice _ ,” Will states.

Derek bristles. “I can be nice.”

“Not to  _ me _ ,” Will clarifies. Derek’s face screws up like he wants to argue, but a beat passes and then he lets out a small laugh. Will’s shoulders relax. “Uh. Thanks, dude. For being nice. Don’t do it again, though, it was super weird and I don’t know how to respond to you.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Good to know that you never, ever change, Dexy,” he mutters, but he still extends a hand to Will to help him up as they climb out of the chairs and make their way out to the kitchens. Will’s heart feels like it’s in his throat.

He’s pretty sure it’s just anxiety about meeting the team, but Derek’s words echoing in his ears make it hard for him to know for sure.

* * *

**alexei mashkov ✔️** @tater07mashkov

twitter important survey: when i meet @willpoindexter24 do we call him ears (for big ears) or red (for hair)

**alexei mashkov ✔️** @tater07mashkov

is not joke, please respond fast, we meet soon!!! ))))))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:
> 
> wow it's been a while i'm sorry friends!!! the past few weeks i have been pretty much consumed by studying for one of the biggest tests of my life (i passed!) so writing unfortunately fell on the back-burner, worsened by the fact that when i DID feel inspired to write, it wasn't for this story. THAT BEING SAID, thanks as per usual for all the kind words that have been said about this story. sometimes i check my subscription count and just feel... blown away by how many people actually want to read this story. you guys are wonderful!!
> 
> anyway! i hope you enjoyed this incredibly short update!
> 
> as always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://tonytangredis.tumblr.com/). comment, bookmark, kudos below, etc etc


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone say "thank you [elizabeth](https://omgdexnursey.tumblr.com/)" for being such a lovely and supportive friend and such an INCREDIBLE writer that she singlehandedly inspired me to get off my ass and finish this chapter. honestly, if you haven't read her stuff yet, what are you doing!  
thank you elizabeth<3

**William J. Poindexter ✔️** @willpoindexter24

**replied to @tater07mashkov:** Do I get any say in this?

**alexei mashkov ✔️** @tater07mashkov

**replied to @willpoindexter24:** absolutely no

**Derek Nurse ✔️** @dnursey

**replied to @tater07mashkov and @willpoindexter24:** EARS. this is the greatest day of my LIFE.

  
  


* * *

Because Georgia Martin is a _ goddess _among mortals, she pulls a toothbrush still in its packaging and a travel-sized toothpaste out of a desk drawer and hands it to Will as he and Derek make their way out of her office. Will doesn’t stay long enough to hear Derek as he gears up with the chirps, taking off towards the first bathroom he can find and frantically brushing his teeth.

It could be worse, he supposes, as he looks at himself critically in the mirror. This is just how he looks. Still, it _ is _embarrassing wearing a Schooners hoodie to meet his new team. He knows Derek has an extra hoodie in the backseat of his car, because he saw Derek throw it back there during one of their outings yesterday.

He’ll be _ damned _before he asks Derek if he can borrow it, though.

Derek is leaning up against the wall when Will walks out of the bathroom, typing away on his phone. “You didn’t have to wait for me,” he says.

“I quite literally did,” Derek says with a sigh. He pockets his phone. “We’re best friends, remember? What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t walk with you on your way to meet the rest of the team?”

“That actually sounds like exactly the kind of friend you would be, in normal situations,” Will tells him. Derek barks out a laugh. His steps fall in line with Will’s.

“Maybe so,” he says cryptically. “Come on. I’ve got everyone from the team texting me and asking me if I murdered you before I could introduce them, so we better get going before they send security after me.”

Will snorts. “Jury’s still out on you murdering me, don’t deny it.”

“Aw, Dexy, I could never murder you,” Derek says, voice dripping with faux-sincerity. “You’re my new eye-candy! I could never find someone with freckles like you.”

“I hate you,” Will sighs.

“I don’t think you do,” Derek sings. Will’s really starting to hate that stupid little phrase.

It’s a short walk to the kitchens, and an easy enough walk for Will to remember. When he’s got the time, or maybe even when he’s got just one moment alone, he’ll take a moment to familiarize himself with the layout of the arena. It’ll be strange, leaning a new rink and the new facilities, and his heart sinks when he thinks about it too hard. He wonders when it’ll stop hitting him so hard that everything is so different now.

“Hey,” Derek says, coming to a stop and grabbing Will’s arm to stop him, too. “You look like you’re freaking. Are you freaking?”

Will huffs, feeling embarrassed and not quite able to meet Derek’s eyes. “I mean, shit, Derek. A little? Wouldn’t you be?”

“Uh, chyeah, that’s why I stopped you and asked before we walked in,” Derek says, in a tone of voice that implies he’s convinced he’s got the patience of a saint. Will could strangle him, honestly. “Some of us actually have human emotions like concern for other humans.”

“God, you’re the worst,” Will mutters. “I have human emotions, you asshole.”

He’s not looking at him, but Will can tell that Derek is rolling his eyes. “Fine, fuck you, be anxious and deal with it yourself,” he snaps. “I’m trying to be a person to you, Will, can’t you, like. Meet me halfway? At all?”

Will finally meets Derek’s eye. “How many times do I have to say it? If you’re expecting me to make us matching friendship bracelets then I hate to burst that bubble but I wouldn’t hold my breath, dude.”

“You’re impossible,” Derek says shortly. His eyes flash.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you since literally the second I landed here,” Will says. “Can we go in now or do you want to try and force another heart to heart?”

Derek laughs, like all of this is water off of his back, and for a moment it’s so infuriating that Will wants to start swinging. All this time he’s been trying to find the chinks in Derek’s armor, trying to find out how much it takes to make this guy act like a fucking _ human _ instead of the perfect media robot that Providence puts on a pedastal, and every time he thinks he’s getting somewhere Derek reverts back into _ this, _ like nothing has ever bothered him ever. Will would _ kill _to have an ounce of the self-control that Derek obviously has, and it drives him nuts trying to get somewhere and thinking he’s making progress just to have the door shut back in his face again.

“Things really just don’t get to you, do they?” Will mutters. “Wow.”

Derek huffs in disbelief. “You’re an idiot, Will. Let’s go.”

He storms off before Will gets a chance to respond to that.

It’s more nerve-wracking than Will had anticipated, walking into the kitchens without Derek placed immediately at his side. Still, Derek pushes open the door and the commotion of riled up hockey players fills the hallway and that, if nothing else, is familiar enough to move Will forward.

“Behold,” Derek says, when Will pushes the door open for himself. “The new rook.”

“Is not rookie,” booms a loud voice, and Will barely has two seconds to take a look around the room before a large arm is cuffing him around his shoulders and pulling him in. He lets out a startled noise. “Just like Nursey is no longer rookie. You want us to still call you rookie?”

Will’s a little dry-mouthed when he finally looks up and realizes Alexei Mashkov is holding onto him.

“Jesus, Tater, the guy hasn’t even walked in the door yet,” someone else laughs. “He doesn’t want to smell your armpits just yet.”

“Is part of team hazing,” Mashkov argues, but he still lets go of Will after another moment passes. “Part of Falconers, must smell Tater’s armpit. Universal experience for every hockey player on this team.”

“Still doesn’t mean he wants it,” chimes in a new voice, and it’s one that Will recognizes. He turns and his shoulders sag in relief when he catches sight of Jack Zimmermann in front of him. “Hi, Dex. Good to see you again.”

“Jack,” Will says, and he manages to not squeak like an idiot when Jack pulls him in for a hug.

“Nursey hasn’t murdered you yet, I see,” Jack says. Beside them, Derek makes an affronted sound. “Or maybe I should be saying I see you haven’t murdered him yet. That seems to be the way your friendship works.”

Will forces out a laugh. “Yeah, I would have loved some heads up on how insufferable this guy is to live with, you know?”

“Hey!” Derek complains.

Will just smirks.

“Let me introduce you to everyone else,” Jack says. “I know you’re familiar with our roster from playing against us while you were in Seattle, but these guys are different off the ice.”

“Kind of,” Derek mutters.

Jack gives him a wry smile. “You’ve met Tater, though I can’t say it was a very proper introduction.”

“Welcome to Providence, Ears,” Mashkov says solemnly, and he laughs when Will groans goodnaturedly.

“Our A’s, Thirdy and Marty,” Jack says. Will does his best not to gape openly at Randall Robinson and Sebastien St. Martin, but he’s honestly not sure he does a great job. They shake his hand and pat him on the back and Will stammers out some kind of response he hopes is normal. “Hiding in the kitchen is Guy, you’ll be hard-pressed to get more than a few words out of him.”

“Like you have any room to talk, Jacky,” St. Martin says. He and Robinson lean on one another as they laugh.

“And over there is our goalie, Snowy,” Jack continues, that same wry smile still on his face. He points to where Dustin Snow sits on the ground in the middle of doing the splits, stretching from side to side. Snow nods his head in Will’s direction and offers him a quiet, “Sup?”

There’s less people than Will had expected, which he’s grateful for in more ways than one. He knows this isn’t the entire roster, and to be honest he’s not sure he’d be able to handle it if it was. But he’ll be on the ice with these guys sooner or later. It’s a bigger relief than he’d expected it to be, getting to know them all now.

“So there you have it, Dexy, these are the assholes that are gonna ruin your life over the next few months,” Derek says, and he throws an arm around Will’s shoulders.

“I don’t have room for anyone else to ruin my life, I’ve got you for that,” Will says dryly. 

“Chyeah, and I’m certainly a handful enough as is,” Derek laughs. He doesn’t let go of Will’s shoulders, though, and Will doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

He’s mostly just glad his face doesn’t feel like it’s burning red right now.

“Quit hogging Ears, is my turn,” Mashkov says, pinching at Derek’s stomach and grinning when Derek yelps and leaps away. Will barely has a second to even think about gawking at Mashkov before the guy is putting both of his arms around Will’s waist and hoisting him in the air.

“What the fuck!” he squawks, high-pitched and startles, and Derek erupts into laughter next to him. Bastard. Will’s gonna kill him when they get back to the apartment.

Everyone else is laughing, too, as Mashkov continues to hold him and is continuously unfazed by Will’s attempts to break free. Mashkov’s only got two inches of height on Will but the guy is built like a brick fucking wall. Across the room, Robinson says around guffaws of laughter, “Aw, Tater, take it easy on the guy, he’s brand new!”

“Is brand new,” Mashkov agrees resolutely. “No worries, Thirdy, we break him in before game time. Like new pair of hockey skates. I think he becomes new host for youth camp later today, yes? Big ears, face like that. Kids love him.”

Somewhere behind them, Derek’s laughter grows even louder.

“Fuck you, Nursey,” Will bites out.

“Jack, tell him he couldn’t handle it,” Derek says sweetly.

“_You _tell him, what the fuck is Jack?” Dustin Snow asks. “Your personal carrier pigeon?”

Will tries to aim for a well-timed elbow jab, but Mashkov somehow manages to see it coming and shifts Will out of the way before he can do it. Will’s trapped in the world’s worst wrestling match, and he absolutely feels like he’s going to die.

Still, there’s a part of him that feels like his chest is going to expand and burst right here and now. As much as he enjoyed Seattle, his teammates never treated him like this. It was all hockey, all the time; there wasn’t _ time _for screwing around in the kitchens, for wrestling matches and chirping and prank-playing. He and Bowser only got close out of necessity, Bowser taking pity on Will for being the new guy after being there himself just one year before. Will has been with these people for less than five minutes and he already feels like he’s a part of their team. Like they’ve accepted him, no questions asked.

His chest fucking hurts, just thinking about it. Not that he'd ever say it out loud.

Across the room, Derek is looking at him like he already knows what Will is thinking anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:  
wow ok so. did not mean to go so long in between updates and i cannot apologize enough. anyone who follows me on [tumblr](https://tonytangredis.tumblr.com/) might know that my life has been. insane recently between school and work craziness, and on top of it trying to deal with fun mental health things. also my life was unfortunately consumed by the clown movie (i know okay. i know) so all motivation i DID have was put into projects on that side. BUT. i was finally able to decide where i wanted this chapter and the next one to go, so yay! this one is cut a little short due to the fact that the next part is going to be a beast (will and derek coaching a youth camp? tissues anyone?). no guarantees on a posting date just because of who i am as a person and the way inspiration is coming and going, like, constantly, BUT I'M BACK!!!
> 
> anyway! i hope this was worth the wait, even in it's shortness, and i hope to post again soon!


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